


Exposed

by die_schoenste_aller_Hexen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Fisting, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24656485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_schoenste_aller_Hexen/pseuds/die_schoenste_aller_Hexen
Summary: Aziraphale saw a naughty image in a magazine and he's dying to replicate it with Crowley. A Nice and Accurate Fanfic.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 291
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	Exposed

“Well, angel?”

Aziraphale delicately set his spoon on his empty plate and dabbed his napkin against his lips. “I didn’t like the way they prepared the prawns; not nearly as good as how they do it at The Lighthouse. But the salmon en papillote was exquisite and the clafoutis perfect.”

“So should we put it in the rotation?”

Aziraphale had combined his love of fine dining with his love of reading by maintaining a running list of his favorite restaurants, ensuring that they needn’t think too long about where to eat on any given night. (By now the list was quite long, so Aziraphale had devised an index system listing them by type of cuisine, decency of the wine, distance from the bookshop, and quality of dessert. Price was not one of the variables.)

“I think we should.” He patted the demon’s hand, daringly left on the table for just such a touch. Crowley’s lips hinted at a smile. “Thank you so much for recommending it, darling.”

“My pleasure. Glad I read about it.”

This restaurant was not as glamourous as the Ritz, but it had its own character. Glitzy chandeliers, a violinist in the next room, the service staff in tasteful but subdued jacket-less suits. It had only been open a few weeks, but Crowley had not had trouble miraculously securing a table for two on a quiet Tuesday evening. He had picked at his starter, sipped his wine (again, not on par with the Ritz, but certainly drinkable), and of course scrutinized Aziraphale. For the last half hour, he had rested his chin in his hand, watching dreamily as the angel enjoyed every bite of his meal.

“You have treated me to a perfect day,” continued Aziraphale, “absolutely perfect.”

Crowley merely smiled. They’d spent the morning apart; Crowley wanted to get up to some demonic mischief before tending to the plants back at his flat, and Aziraphale had a box of advance reader copies to sort. But they had made sure to meet at a café for a light lunch, and then they took advantage of the rare fine weather to visit St. James’ Park, people watching and gossiping. Aziraphale had been enamored by a street performer, and Crowley, feeling magnanimous, had kept his mouth shut at the performer’s sleight of hand and simple magic. Not particularly demonic of him, but hey, no one was keeping score anymore.

The angel glanced at his empty plate, then looked up through his eyelashes at Crowley. Crowley’s attention sharpened; he knew that look well enough. “Really, dear,” said Aziraphale, “I probably should … _reward you_ for such a nice day.”

Their relationship had taken this turn shortly after the world “ended” and was “reborn” three years ago. An easy adjustment, they both fell into their new _agreement_ wholeheartedly, and aside from this physicality, little else had changed. Aziraphale maintained his silly bookstore, and Crowley kept his flat and plants. They still enjoyed long drives, nights at the theater, and fine dining. They just added fucking on top of it, and life went on, blissful as ever. More blissful, really, as daily orgasms did wonders for your mood. Especially if, as in Crowley’s case, you’ve been pining for your partner for six thousand years.

A year ago, they had started playing with some of humanity’s creative but private innovations. After all, Crowley was risk-tolerant, as they say, and Aziraphale had his bastard streak. It wasn’t a stretch to throw in some toys and see what happens. But that sort of play was not an everyday affair, more of a treat, and it sounded like tonight, it was on the menu.

Part of the play was not talking too forwardly about it. They’ve had those discussions, about limits and safety, and feel comfortable with where they are. They’ve set the rules, they know their strategies, they’ve agreed on the gameboard, and this just happens to be one of the opening gambits.

Crowley considered his response, scratching his chin. “I don’t think I deserve a reward.”

“Of course you do!” Aziraphale looked scandalized by the mere thought. “And it would make me _most happy_ to give you one.”

The demon shifted in his seat. Aziraphale was playing it aggressively tonight. “Well, I couldn’t deny you anything, angel.”

He signaled for the check.

***

As the door closed behind them, Crowley slipped Aziraphale’s jacket off and hung it on its hook. Before he could start removing his own, Aziraphale turned and pressed him to the door, knocking away his glasses while wrapping his arms around his neck and planting his lips on Crowley’s. The kiss was long and insistent, and when Aziraphale finally pulled back, his cheeks pink and lips swollen, Crowley’s heart skipped a beat.

“Wow,” he said, hands on Aziraphale’s hips, “a walk in the park and a little seafood gets me that?”

“And quite a bit more.” Aziraphale’s fingers teased through Crowley’s hair, and he leaned in for another peck. “Take off your clothes, darling. Slowly, please.”

“Here?” But Crowley was already shrugging out of his jacket, fingers hastening to his button-up. Aziraphale stepped back and observed as he moved with deliberation and no haste. No rushing tonight.

It was a bit weird standing bare-arsed in the bookshop. Oh, they’d had their dalliances here – by the till, on the floor, against a bookcase (Aziraphale’s favorite); usually they favored the sofa in the back. Good memories on that sofa. But there was something inappropriate about being in that space on display like this; it was semi-public, a space that often included _others_ , and he was on view, even if the audience was only the angel. If they had both been naked, hearts pounding and lips locked, it would have been less awkward; alone, he felt like he was under glass, scrutinized. Crowley kept his eyes on Aziraphale’s intent stare as he kicked away his trousers and pants.

“You are so gorgeous, my dear,” said Aziraphale with a sigh. Crowley swallowed. He’d gotten better at taking compliments, but his initial response was still to argue. Besides, Aziraphale was the one with the inviting corporation. All that soft, warm flesh, so much skin that flushed so nicely beneath Crowley’s roving fingers. His white-blond curls framing whatever effort he had chosen at the time. Puffy pink nipples that hardened brilliantly under Crowley’s tongue. That hidden strength, when he was hoisting Crowley against a wall, or pinning his arms above his head, or …

Crowley shook his head and tried to focus on the present.

Aziraphale misinterpreted the shake and stepped forward, drawing Crowley’s naked form against his clothed one. “But you are, dear boy, you are the most beautiful thing in all Her creation.”

The near blasphemy made him shiver. Crowley shifted to one side, so Aziraphale’s leg slipped between his, and rutted up against him. “Mmmm, I dunno, I can think of an angel who ranks pretty highly.”

They kissed for a few minutes longer, Aziraphale’s hands rubbing his back, massaging the slight swell of his hips that come along with the cunt he’s currently sporting. Eyes closed, Crowley focused on the angel’s touch. Heat built inside him, starting in his groin and flushing upward. Aziraphale’s nimble fingers somehow lulled his mind to sleep while sparking fire in his body. His hips began to move more insistently at Aziraphale’s thigh.

“You’re so distracting,” Aziraphale chided as he finally pulled his mouth from Crowley’s. “I have plans for you, and here you are tempting me in my own bookshop.”

“Demon,” said Crowley, with a slow blink. “ ‘S what I do. But I thought you promised to reward me?”

Aziraphale’s responding grin outshone the sun.

***

Upstairs, Crowley stood by the bed and waited. He watched Aziraphale strip off his waistcoat, roll up his sleeves, and … remove nothing else. Crowley gulped. So that’s how it was going to go tonight, hmm? “Are you comfortable, angel?”

“I’d really rather focus on _your_ comfort tonight, love.” Aziraphale took a bashful step forward and trailed a finger along Crowley’s collarbones. “I was thinking of trying something … new.”

“Sounds fair. New restaurant, new … whatever.”

Aziraphale ran his hands over Crowley’s shoulders. The demon took a steadying breath, trying not to melt under his touch. “I must confess,” the angel said, “I saw something in a magazine the other day that I can’t get out of my head.”

“A little naughty reading?”

“I can’t stop wondering how you’d look in it. But I’m worried it might be uncomfortable for you.”

“You know I’d tell you if I was, Aziraphale. And I could get out of it.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. He walked behind Crowley and pressed against his bare back, embracing him. Leaning close, he whispered his idea into Crowley’s ear, in thorough detail.

For his part, Crowley managed to keep calm. His impulse was to throw Aziraphale on the bed, undo his trousers, and climb on top of him, but he swallowed it down. They were going slowly tonight; the angel had a particular tableau in mind. Christ, this description was getting him wet. He could see why Aziraphale liked it. It had a certain vulgarity about it, an impropriety that would serve as a rude cap to an otherwise perfectly respectable day.

When he finished his description, Aziraphale took a step back, moving his hands to Crowley’s hips. He wanted a response. Crowley had to swallow a few times before he managed, nonchalantly, “Oh yeah, I think I could do that.”

“You’re sure it wouldn’t be painful?”

“Angel. Please. You know how bendy I am. I’ll tell you if I don’t want it.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “All right. I trust you. Safeword?”

“Mmm … garden.”

“Perfect. Hands behind your back, darling.”

They’ve learned that taking things slowly, doing this the human way, is far more pleasurable than jumping ahead with miracles. Yes, they can quickly conjure ropes and toys, they can skip the sometimes laborious preparation, they can even bring one another off with a finger snap – which had been a fun novelty, the first few times, but wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as doing it slowly. It was ritualistic, in its way, to take their time. To touch one another, and to appreciate being touched; to let their heads gradually sink to a special mindspace they could only achieve with one another.

Crowley closed his eyes and sharpened his other senses. He heard the bedside drawer open, and the sounds of Aziraphale fishing around for the right equipment. Warm fingers positioned his wrists just so in the small of his back, keeping his elbows bent and his shoulders even, not hunched backward. Then came the silk rope, smoothly twined between his wrists, pinning them together. Well-practiced by now, Aziraphale didn’t draw the knots too tightly, nor did he let them droop. When he had finished and let go, Crowley made sure to flex his wrists and fingers, to show it wasn’t too tight.

“Everything comfortable?”

“Feels great.”

“Come lie on the bed, please.”

This was the part worrying Aziraphale. True, if Crowley spent too much time lying on his bound arms, it would grow uncomfortable. But that would take a while, and he knew Aziraphale would be distracting him thoroughly in the meantime. Still, the angel helped him get situated on the bed, a pillow propping up his head and another beneath his arse. Crowley wiggled until he was satisfied he wasn’t putting undue pressure on his wrists.

“All right?” asked Aziraphale, standing back from the bed.

Crowley nodded. “All good.”

“Knees to your chest.”

He curled his legs so his knees nearly grazed his nipples. This wasn’t a difficult position for him – he _was_ bendy – but it did feel a bit … embarrassing, as his cunt was openly displayed. Crowley had long ceased to feel much embarrassment during sex, but at the start of things he still felt shy. Aziraphale took the next length of rope and fastened a knot around his right ankle. “Keep your knees bent, dear. I don’t want them locked.”

“Want to watch me squirm, angel?”

“I want you to be comfortable,” Aziraphale tutted, finishing the knot securing him to the bedpost. Crowley tensed and relaxed his newly bound foot. “Very good.” He tied Crowley’s other ankle the same way, hoisted his foot, and fastened the other end of the rope to the corresponding bedpost. Then he stood back and admired his handiwork. Crowley couldn’t help resist preening under the attention, flaunting his rear end. “Oh my dear boy,” breathed the angel, “you look _incredible._ How do you feel?”

Crowley considered, partly wondering what answer Aziraphale wanted and partly wondering how he genuinely felt. This was a vulnerable position: arms tied beneath his back, ankles secured to posts behind his head, cunt and arse on full display. The bedposts were far enough apart that he was spread-eagled, and he had no chance of closing his legs. But he had a good range of motion; though currently extended, his legs were not tightly bound and he could bend them at the knee, so he was free to sway and twist as needed. And true to his snakish nature, he _was_ bendy, and could curl his arse far off the bed if needed. Aziraphale definitely wanted squirming tonight.

Finally he settled with, “Exposed.”

“Oh, you are that.” Aziraphale took one last object from the drawer, shut it, and crawled on the bed, situating himself by Crowley’s _exposure._ “Perfectly exposed for me to do whatever I want. You look _so amazing_ , darling.”

“I bet you say that to all the demons you tie up in bed.”

Aziraphale laughed softly, running his hands along Crowley’s right thigh. “I do.” He bent and gently kissed Crowley in the ticklish spot behind his knee. The latter squirmed. “Nuh-uh, dear, we’ve got a long way to go, you might as well relax.”

The demon took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Aziraphale planted open-mouthed kisses down his thigh, sucking light bruises along Crowley’s freckled skin. He made sure to cover every bare inch until he reached the crease at his hip. He pointedly skipped over Crowley’s cunt and resumed his kisses on the other thigh, this time working from hip to knee.

“I can spend all the time I want down here, worshiping you.”

Another near blasphemy. Crowley chuckled. “Careful, angel, I think I’m tempting you to sin.”

“Temptation accomplished.” Aziraphale’s grin dazzled and he wiggled in that adorable way Crowley knew meant he was pleased with himself. He scooted back and lowered his face close to Crowley’s cunt, inhaling, but then moved lower and began to kiss Crowley’s buttocks the way he had kissed his thighs. Crowley swore silently; he wouldn’t mind those lips on _his_ lips right about now.

Nothing doing; in this position he was at Aziraphale’s mercy, which was sort of the point. Instead, he took another deep breath and concentrated on the feel of his lover handling him. Aziraphale’s fingers softly skittering across his skin. The wet touch of plump lips, with the slightest _pth_ of noise with each kiss. The implicit promise held in each warm puff of breath: _I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to make you feel good, I love you._

Unexpectedly, Aziraphale licked a stripe along Crowley’s perineum, making him yelp. Aziraphale chuckled. “Just making sure you’re paying attention. I don’t want you too lost in your head, dear.”

“Christ.” Crowley flexed his fingers and let out a shuddering exhale. “Please, Aziraphale.”

“Please?”

“Please lick me.”

“Isn’t that what I just did? You didn’t seem to like it.” Aziraphale spread two fingers in V and brushed them along his outer labia. Crowley took a sharp breath.

“I did, I did like it. Just – higher?”

“Bossy boy.” He continued that light stroke, first down around his opening, the fingertips pressing gently just beneath it, then back to his clit, careful not to touch it. “I think you should have to wait a bit for that.”

“ _Fuck_.” Crowley rolled his eyes and tried to keep his hips still; if he wriggled, he knew Aziraphale would keep up the teasing that much longer.

“Only if you’re good.” Aziraphale continued the gentle stroke and Crowley forced himself to slow his breathing, consciously letting his muscles relax. First his shoulders, purposely tensing them and then letting them drop; next he clenched his fists and released them to fall open naturally; then the hardest, his hips, he visualized like butter, melting slowly over heat. That kind of trick wouldn’t work later, but for now it helped him keep his rear end (mostly) on the pillow.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” asked Aziraphale, still casually rubbing his labia and, like a true bastard, still ignoring his clit.

“Might’ve mentioned it once or twice. Could say it again.”

“I could never say it enough. Gorgeous. Stunning. Perfect.” He dipped his head and shot Crowley a sly look. “And you have a lovely face too.”

“Hardy-har-har.”

“This _is_ quite magnificent, though.” Finally, _finally_ , Aziraphale moved, kissing just above Crowley’s clit and then blowing gently as he slipped farther down. “Look how swollen you are. So pink and soft, and you’re so _wet_ , Crowley.”

Crowley did not need Aziraphale to tell him this particular bit of information. He gulped and struggled to keep his hips on the pillow.

“And you smell … “ He dipped his nose closer but purposely kept his mouth sealed. “Oh, you smell so heavenly, my love.”

“Please,” groaned Crowley. “Please, angel, _please._ ”

“Please?” Now Aziraphale parted his folds with his fingers, maintaining that slow rub with the right amount of pressure. “I can’t believe a little rubbing has gotten to you like this, Crowley. Take a few breaths.”

“Been more than a little rubbing.”

Aziraphale’s eyes shone with his smile. Christ, Crowley loved that light, that toothy grin, that bit of bastard in his lover. “What, the walking and wining? Are you a romantic, Crowley?”

“ _Bastard_ ,” he hissed through his teeth, and in punishment/reward Aziraphale pinched the skin around his clit. Crowley actually _squeaked_ and, to cover the shameful sound, demanded, “Oy! Do that again!”

“Not with that attitude. I’m really not sure you’re getting into the spirit of things.” Aziraphale slid his fingers farther from the center line of his cunt, lightening his touch to the merest feather.

Crowley shook his head and groaned (not the good kind, this time). “No, please, please touch me, Aziraphale, _please_.”

“Goodness, you are demanding tonight. You’re not going to keep doing that, are you?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. Just … just feels good.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips together, as though keeping inside a reprimand, and chose instead to move his fingers back to Crowley’s labia and resume that steady stroke. Crowley inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled, and kept his hips in place. The angel seemed pleased with his effort and responded with a light tap on his clit. Crowley gasped but didn’t move.

“You trust me, don’t you darling?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Then you’ll let me take care of you, won’t you? Let me treat you right?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

Aziraphale smiled now and returned his attention to his task between Crowley’s legs. The demon exhaled shakily and strove to keep still under Aziraphale’s fingers. He had increased the pressure but moved more slowly, with a little waggle against Crowley’s clitoral hood. Crowley struggled to breathe evenly, intensely studying Aziraphale’s face.

After some period of time (minutes? Days? Crowley had already lost track) Aziraphale glanced up to meet his eyes. “That’s better, isn’t it, love?”

“Mm-hmm. Feels good.”

“Does it? Do you like this?” Still circling Crowley’s clit (and prudently avoiding it), he brought his other hand, which had been steadying Crowley’s hip, to rest against his pubic mound. He ruffled the wiry hair there before pressing into a certain spot. “Feeling better now, aren’t you?”

Crowley’s entire lower half was thrumming with tension. Fuck, he wanted an orgasm. He nodded again, and Aziraphale laughed softly.

“I didn’t steal your breath away entirely, did I?”

Crowley knew he wanted feedback. Pride was not at the top of Aziraphale’s sin list, but he had his moments. Swallowing hard, he managed, “Feels — amazing, Aziraphale, _fuck_ it’s good.”

“Well, I suppose there’s no reason to wait any longer.” Hands in place, Aziraphale leaned closer to his cunt. “Hold still now.”

Aziraphale had always been fond of his mouth; over the millennia, Crowley had seen him put all manner of things into it, including items that were clearly not foodstuffs. Crowley knew some humans could be squeamish when it came to oral sex; Aziraphale had never shown any hesitation.

Shuddering, Crowley focused on Aziraphale’s request to keep still. Which was not easy with wet lips nibbling his labia, and a strong tongue dipping into his entrance, teasing. Though he desperately wanted his clit touched, it was easier to endure the licking when Aziraphale ignored it. After a bit of exploration, Aziraphale flattened his tongue and began long licks, end to end, as though lewdly enjoying an ice cream cone.

 _Fuck_ this felt incredible, always had.

After the first time they’d done this in bed, they’d gone out for breakfast, and Crowley had found himself vibrating in his seat watching Aziraphale enjoy his meal. He always loved watching the angel eat for some perverse reason, but now that he knew exactly how wet that mouth was, the heat of that dexterous tongue, the just-right scrape of pearly teeth against his most sensitive spots … oh, it added an entirely new dimension of desire. They’d barely made it to the Bentley before Crowley was pulling Aziraphale’s face down between his thighs, pleading …

Shit, that memory was not helping him refrain from coming.

Beneath him his fingers twitched rhythmically. Usually he gripped Aziraphale’s hair; even if the angel resisted being guided by him, holding on like that was a good way for Crowley to stay grounded, to anchor himself. And also to grind himself into an amazing orgasm.

Christ, he was going to have one of those anyway. With his legs spread like this, Aziraphale was able to lick deep inside him, and Crowley had enough freedom of motion that he could lift off the pillow, pushing into Aziraphale’s face. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to get off without his clit getting some attention, but the wet licking, combined with the pressure on his pubis, after all that warm up …

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. “Angel, I’m gonna – “

Aziraphale didn’t withdraw, instead rubbing more vigorously on Crowley’s pubis. He finally stretched his thumb down to where Crowley’s engorged clit was silently pleading for attention and stroked it.

That did it. Crowley cried out, arching off his hands and bucking his hips into Aziraphale’s mouth. The angel kept him pinned, licking broad strokes along his labia, relentlessly massaging his clit with his thumb. The orgasm crashed over him and he thrashed beneath Aziraphale’s grip, legs straining against the ropes. Aziraphale finally eased off his clit and focused on lapping up the juices Crowley’s pussy had produced.

“Whew.” Crowley shook his head, coming back to his senses somewhat. “Fuck, Aziraphale, that – _at_ – _at_ – “

Aziraphale slid his mouth northward and caught Crowley’s sensitive clit between his lips and sucked, hard. The needle on the record player of his mind started skipping.

Overstimulated, his clit throbbed under Aziraphale’s persistent attention. Pain/pleasure radiated down his legs; his toes curled tightly in an attempt to contain the energy coursing through him. Crowley wanted to scissor his legs, to catch Aziraphale’s head between his thighs and wrench him off, but the ropes held fast. Oh that was too much, it was too sensitive, he really couldn’t take that for very long …

But Aziraphale kept sucking, his tongue tip tapping away at his clit, and everything was hot and wet and _fuck_ he couldn’t stop —

This second orgasm was more intense but briefer, like a stinging slap to his most sensitive parts. His body seized up, teeth clenched, as a swirl of pleasure cycloned through him. Finally Aziraphale released his clit, leaving it throbbing and sore, aching for both more attention and less. He gulped air and tried to keep the room from spinning.

“My, that was fast,” said Aziraphale cheerily. He had withdrawn all touch and sat back on his heels, admiring Crowley’s comedown. “See what happens when you lie back and relax?”

Crowley laughed through his panting. “Not — not sure this is _that_ relaxing, Aziraphale.”

“No? You seem relaxed. Perhaps I should investigate.” Like a scientist inspecting a particularly intriguing specimen, Aziraphale slid his hand down Crowley’s cunt to his entrance and slipped a finger inside, which of course offered no stimulation. “Ah, see? Quite relaxed.”

Crowley clenched pointlessly around the finger. “May — maybe another … ?”

Aziraphale tutted. “Didn’t we just discuss this? Trust me, sweetheart.”

Crowley grunted but bit his tongue. Instead he concentrated on that single finger and realized that Aziraphale was rubbing inside, a delightful “come hither” motion he could tolerate for some time. Beneath him he wiggled his arms, shifting his shoulders.

Aziraphale was instantly alert. “Pain?”

“Nuh-uh,” said Crowley, “just a little stiff.”

“If you need to – “

“I know, angel.” Crowley didn’t want Aziraphale to get sidetracked by concern. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, quite the opposite; long ago, back in Eden, the angel had been the first one to show Crowley any kindness since his Fall. If he thought about it too long, he’d start to get weepy, and he’d rather have a few more comes tonight than a cry. Best to distract him. “Another finger’d help.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes but acquiesced. Oh, that rub felt amazing. Crowley closed his eyes and sighed, concentrating on those fingertips caressing him. Absurdly he was reminded of Aziraphale taking his hand in the park that evening, pulling him in one direction to show him a specific flowering bush he wanted Crowley to admire. In the same way, those fingertips were guiding him now, and he let himself be dragged in Aziraphale’s wake, body softening.

The angel hummed in approval, and Crowley cracked a sleepy eye. Aziraphale was beaming down at him. “Look at you, my dear, relaxing so nicely for me. My goodness, you are wet.”

Crowley had felt a few drops slide down his perineum to his arsehole, and the slick squelch of Aziraphale’s thrusts was hard to miss. Still, he said, “Yeah? Wet enough for you?”

“Oh my, no. I could probably make you a little wetter. Let me see.” He withdrew his hand entirely, then nudged at Crowley’s entrance with three fingers. Crowley grunted and bore down, and Aziraphale slid inside.

Hell’s bells, that felt so good. Crowley sighed. Aziraphale’s steady thrusts rocked his hips, rocked his whole body, ankles dangling in their bonds, knees swaying to the angel’s rhythm. Idly he wondered if he could come again like this, and realized that if he could, it would take a long time. He moaned, which earned him a delightful increase in pressure inside.

“Darling,” said Aziraphale, gazing at him with hooded eyes, “everything all right? Need something?”

“Wanna … wanna come.”

“Aren’t we working at that?”

Crowley swallowed around a sudden knot in his throat. “Need — I think I need —”

“I know what you need.” Inside his cunt, Aziraphale changed the angle of his fingers slightly, and began pressing more deliberately with his middle finger. Crowley cried out. “Ah, that’s it, isn’t it?” the angel teased, increasing the speed of his thrusts. “That’s just what you needed.”

He nodded frantically, eyes locked on Aziraphale’s. The tension was rising in his lower half again, a wave far from shore, gradually but steadily building to its crest. Frustrated, he tried to push back on Aziraphale’s fingers, but the latter just returned his free hand to Crowley’s pubis and pinned him to the bed. Fuck, he loved it when Aziraphale manhandled him like that.

The angel was pumping vigorously now. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, dear? I want you to come for me.”

“Mm-hmm, I want to, I’m trying,” Crowley whined. The trouble with the third orgasm was always finding that right balance of tension and relaxation. If he focused too hard, he’d never come; if he loosened too much, he also wouldn’t come.

“I know you want to. I can see how hard you’re trying.” Crowley’s body swung with Aziraphale’s thrusting. His cunt was sopping, and he could hear the sucking sounds it made when Aziraphale withdrew and thrust, withdrew and thrust. Fuck, this was good, it was amazing, but he couldn’t come; he wanted to so badly, but couldn’t.

Crowley swallowed, trying to hold back a sob. “Puh-please, please angel, please … “

Still pumping, Aziraphale ducked his head and latched on to Crowley’s swollen clit. The demon howled and jack-knifed upward, pressing his groin harder into Aziraphale’s face and fingers. The ropes were aiding him now rather than hindering him; he used the ties around his ankles as leverage to raise his hips up, grinding hard. Oh, that was going to do it, just a few more thrusts and then —

The orgasm sliced through him, hot and bright and nearly painful in its intensity. His crying crested into a wail, wordless and, if he were in his senses, somewhat embarrassing, but he was too foregone to feel shame. The pleasure escaped his body through the keening and another gush of liquid at his cunt. His vision whited out and at the orgasm’s zenith he felt like he was soaring upward, sucked into a hot wet vortex.

As his soul settled back into his body, Crowley realized that Aziraphale had left his clit and was now lapping hungrily along his perineum. Everything below his waist was hot and liquid, transformed into twitching jelly by his talented lover. (The rest of his body felt pretty boneless, too.) Of course, Aziraphale was enjoying himself as much as Crowley. When the angel raised his head, his lips and chin were shiny with Crowley’s come, and the demon whimpered.

“Nice to have you back on Earth, dear.”

Crowley tried to remember how his mouth functioned and how to create words. “Yeah … nice … “

Aziraphale chuckled, then resumed his licking. Crowley moaned, head lolling against the pillow at the sensation of hot, broad tongue against such a sensitive region. Shivers rippled through his body with every lick until finally, _finally_ , Aziraphale sat up.

“You are absolutely delicious, my love.”

“Gl-glad you like it,” said Crowley, and Aziraphale laughed. He managed a weak chuckle and then continued, “You’re wearing me out, Aziraphale.”

“Am I? Too much for you, darling?”

He shook his head.

“You’d tell me, surely?” Aziraphale’s voice held a note of warning.

“’Course,” he answered hoarsely. “I — I trust you.”

Aziraphale brightened at that. “Thank you, my love. I’ll do my best to earn it.” He softly stroked Crowley’s flanks, allowing him a few minutes to center himself, before returning his fingers to his cunt. “Let me just check here.”

Crowley chuckled, then groaned. His groin was sensitive, but Aziraphale’s relentless fingers parted the folds of his wet labia. He bit his lip as the angel slid three fingers effortlessly inside.

“You are so open, my dear,” said Aziraphale, twisting his hand, and Crowley moaned at the obscene sucking sound the movement made. “Look, darling, sit up.”

Girding his abdominal muscles, Crowley managed to lift his arse and his head just enough to see Aziraphale buried knuckle-deep inside him. With a grunt he collapsed back to the bed.

“Do you think … ?”

But he gasped in pain at the probing of the fourth finger; the additional stretch where Aziraphale tried to slip the width of his hand inside was too much. Aziraphale backed off, making soothing noises and patting his belly.

After a pause, Crowley opened his eyes, now feeling able to focus on Aziraphale. The latter was looking at him with a mix of fondness and concern. Crowley quirked his lip. “Thinking deep thoughts?”

“Thinking only of you, my love. Feeling all right? Do you … do you want to try?”

A simple miracle could “fix” this “problem” and they both knew it. But that wouldn’t be very fun — and they both knew that too. Suddenly determined, Crowley nodded. “Yes. I can do it. I just need … maybe … some distraction?”

Still looking uncertain, Aziraphale picked up the vibrator he had retrieved after tying Crowley down. It was their old Hitachi, equally loved and loathed by both. He twisted it in his hands for a moment before applying his fingers to Crowley’s cunt, back to that up-and-down stroke along his labia. Crowley sighed; the touch was more comforting than arousing at this point. Aziraphale was still uneasy about pushing this.

Mind made up, Crowley pushed against Aziraphale’s hand, jiggling his arse enticingly. “Come on, Aziraphale. I want you to give it to me.”

“You’re getting bossy again,” warned Aziraphale, sounding more in the game now.

“Please?” tried Crowley. Though Aziraphale had yet to put it into actual words, Crowley knew begging got into his head and made him higher than a kite. “Please. Please give it to me. I want to. I want to come again for you. Please.”

The stroking hand paused at his entrance, then the three fingers slipped back inside. He clenched around them, attempting to get them in the right spot, but Aziraphale dodged his most sensitive areas. “You want another one, my love? Not too much?”

“For you.” He continued to push against Aziraphale’s hand, and finally the angel caved and began thrusting his fingers, though still avoiding his G-spot. “Wanna come for you. Please make me.”

With his free hand Aziraphale flicked the vibrator’s switch and applied its head to his clit.

Crowley thought he didn’t have much energy left in his body, but the vibrations jolted new life into tired flesh. Squealing, he thrashed and struggled to avoid the vibrating ball of the Hitachi. Well-practiced by this point, Aziraphale matched him move for move. Crowley shimmied left and right, then tried to curl his hips away from Aziraphale. The ropes kept his legs stretched and cunt exposed, with no way to cut off the torturous pulsation. All the while he couldn’t stop his wails.

Aziraphale tutted and kept the Hitachi in place, not varying the pressure nor the intensity of the pulses. “Come now, darling. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Eyes squeezed shut, Crowley nodded.

“Then calm down and _take it._ ”

Huffing, Crowley forced his hips back to the bed. The relentless thrum of the vibrator — even though he could tell it was on a low setting — ricocheted through his groin and up his spine. The lizard section of his brain quivered at the base of his skull.

“There’s a good boy,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, and Crowley chuffed. “Look at you, relaxing again. I knew you could do it. You’re getting wetter again, my love, can you tell?”

He could; that vulgar suck made by the vibrator rattling his clit was louder, and his crack and buttocks were drenched. Groaning, he channeled all his energy into keeping his hips still, enduring the agony of the vibrations rippling through him. Thoughts appeared only in flashes: _pain pain oh Christ pain fuck good pain pain painpainpain fuck it’s good_ —

“You’re going to come again for me, sweetheart,” said Aziraphale, pistoning his arm. Crowley couldn’t feel anything beyond the Hitachi’s throbs, but he could see the angel moving, his brow knitted in concertation. “I can see it, love, hold on now, give it to me, go ahead, give it to me — ”

He did and oh, it _ached_. The howl that barreled out of him was inhuman (or rather, indemonic). This overstimulation was excruciating, and the orgasm was short but strong. His brain short-circuited, and all Crowley knew was the buzzsaw of pleasure cutting through him, leaving him in heaving halves slumped on the bed.

When his vision refocused, he saw Aziraphale had gentled his thrusts, although the vibrator remained in place. Every nerve was alight with the pulsations; fuck, even his eyeballs were jiggling in their sockets. It took a moment for him to realize Aziraphale was still talking. “Oh my love, you are incredible, absolutely _incredible._ So beautiful. You are perfect, Crowley.” His hand twisted in his cunt, and Crowley groaned. “Look, my love, look.”

Aziraphale angled his hips high enough so he could see — and Aziraphale was fist deep inside him, buried past the thumb, the rim of his opening stretched wider than they had ever non-miraculously achieved. He should feel proud, and probably would once his brain came back online, but for now, he was awed in an uncomprehending way. Crowley flopped down again, panting.

“ ‘S … ‘s good … “

“You have been so good for me, my boy, absolutely amazing.” Aziraphale flexed his fingers. Crowley felt stretched and full, stuffed to the brim with angel. “I can feel everything inside you, love. Hot and perfect and _mine_.” His fist swiveled on the last word, and Crowley cried out.

“You can give me one more, surely?” asked Aziraphale. The demon whimpered. “Just one more, please? I want it.”

Crowley attempted thought. Could he come again? How many had that been? Fuck, he was exhausted; although his nerves continued thrumming under the vibrator, his bones had liquidated, muscles disintegrated. Did he even have a corporation left to orgasm?

He couldn’t think. Instead he focused on Aziraphale’s blazing eyes, iridescent with desire. The greed in the angel’s face was astonishing, frightening even. Crowley trusted him — Aziraphale would never hurt him, never ignore his needs — but the passion revealed in those drawn brows and swollen pink lips overwhelmed him. He blinked, and Aziraphale stopped moving his fist.

Aziraphale let go of the vibrator, which miraculously kept its position, and reached under Crowley’s buttocks. He grasped his bound hands, and Crowley gratefully squeezed him, needing his reassurance.

He could do this. If it was what Aziraphale wanted, he could do it. He licked his lips and said, “Y-yes. Wanna come. For you.”

Aziraphale’s grin split his face, and he rushed to assuage Crowley. “Don’t worry, my boy, I’ll help you. You just lie back and _take it._ ”

The vibrator ratcheted up not one but two notches. The pain of it was so sharp and sudden, he couldn’t draw breath to scream. Every hair on his body shot to attention, the vibrations bursting from every available pore. Giving him no time to adjust, Aziraphale plunged inside him, withdrawing his fist just enough to get the maximum stretch while keeping his fingers firmly pressed into his G-spot. He set a relentless, punishing pace.

Crowley struggled for breath he technically didn’t need. He thought he was making some sort of noise, like a wounded animal, but he couldn’t hear himself over Aziraphale. “Come on now, sweetheart. Come for me. Do it. _Do it._ ”

Whatever substance it is that makes Crowley “Crowley” drowned in the gush of endorphins and adrenaline. Every cell in his body tingled with agony and ecstasy at once. Everything — the ropes, the bed, the tears tracking down his face — everything in the universe disappeared except for Aziraphale’s hand stretching him, Aziraphale cheering him on, _Aziraphale Aziraphale Aziraphale_ …

He came. At least, he was pretty sure he came. The exhausted muscles of his groin contracted around Aziraphale, and his clit pulsed against the Hitachi. Every ounce of remaining tension evaporated, leaving a mound of quivering mindless flesh behind. He was suspended in the void, the exact opposite of the Fall, lifted by Aziraphale’s love and devotion, his _worship._

How long he hung there, he wasn’t sure. The pleasure seemed to go on and on, wringing him out. He didn’t know if Aziraphale was still fucking him, or if the vibrator was still on him. Only a smidgen of gray matter still functioned in his skull, and even it was shrieking in delight. All he knew was that Aziraphale had done this, and Crowley had done it for Aziraphale.

Distantly he could make out another sound, something familiar. The sole survivor of his mind lassoed the scrambled bits and tried to patch them together, to think. It was a wet sound, rhythmic, up and down, was it …? His eyes snapped to attention. It took all his strength to crane his head upward, struggling to see Aziraphale. The angel had undone his flies and slipped his trousers partway down his hips and was frigging his hand.

Crowley licked his lips and tried to remember how to speak. “Wait … please … “

Aziraphale didn’t stop but looked up at him. “Yes, love?”

“Please … please come in me. I want it.”

“You’re not too sore?”

He shook his head enthusiastically, or at least as enthusiastically as he could manage. “Come in me. Please, angel, please, please come in me?”

Aziraphale was already shifting onto his knees. With his free hand he grabbed the vibrator and switched it off, tossing it over the side of the bed. Crowley was too overstimulated to be relieved; he was fixated on Aziraphale, eagerly awaiting his cock. The angel didn’t wait, lining up and sinking in with a deliciously obscene squelch of come and saliva. They both groaned.

“Oh darling,” said Aziraphale, placing both hands on the backs of Crowley’s thighs to angle him higher, “oh you feel incredible, you feel heavenly … “

“Please,” Crowley mouthed, unsure if he was making any sound. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

As if that wasn’t what Aziraphale had been doing all night. And now that he had ensured Crowley had had his fill, Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to satisfy himself. Crowley loved it when he was like this, primal and driven and relentless, ploughing into him and shaking the bed and chanting praise all the while.

“Oh my love, light of my life, Crowley, I love you, _IloveyouIloveyouI —_ ”

His world narrowed to Aziraphale’s face: those shimmering eyes creased in pleasure, brow drawn tightly, mouth a gaping wound as he sang Crowley’s praises. He would do anything to please him – not that there was anything he _could_ do in this position, only to lie back and _take it_. He tried cheering him on but had no breath, so he settled on mentally conveying his encouragement: _Take it, angel, take it take it take it, please come in me, please please please –_

“ _Fuck_ , oh Crowley, oh I’m coming my love – “ With a final deep thrust Aziraphale held flush against his buttocks, head back and fingers digging in to his tender thighs. In the sudden silence his orgasmic cry was particularly loud, and Crowley moaned in sympathy. He had no idea how long it went on, only marveled at the wetness of his groin, how drenched his thighs and buttocks were, how hot and comforting Aziraphale’s cock felt pressed so deep inside him.

Crowley floated so high now that Aziraphale’s voice was hazy, a murmur like rain over a lake. He got the gist of what the angel was saying, of course, praise for his performance, and if Crowley had any energy left, he would bask in the attention. As it was, he didn’t have a drop of fluid left in his body. Everything below his belly button and above his collarbones was firmly offline.

For some time Aziraphale’s soft whisperings were all he could sense; his vision remained fuzzy, the room a swirl of dark colors. Then he felt warm fingers around his ankle, carefully undoing the knotted rope, and then massaging his ankle and foot. (Disentangling like the humans did, sans miracles, was an important part of the comedown, just as setting up the human way was a key part of the turning on.) The angel stretched his leg and set it on the bed, with a last lingering caress along his shin. He repeated the process with Crowley’s other leg.

Now he was able to make out Aziraphale’s words, as the angel leaned closer to his ear. “I’m going to roll you over, love.” Crowley grunted in acknowledgment and felt warm, strong hands position him just so on his stomach. Aziraphale untied his wrists, rubbed them, and set Crowley’s arms by his sides. Then he moved to his shoulder blades. Now that he was paying attention to it, Crowley realized his shoulders ached; they had been pinned in position for some time. Of course, Aziraphale’s massage, with a light divine touch, quickly eased the soreness away.

Once Aziraphale had stripped away all the bindings, miracles were back on the menu. A snap clad Crowley in comfy sweats and an old T-shirt, and Aziraphale switched from his rumpled day clothes into his preferred night things. The angel shifted into position behind Crowley, slotting up against his curved back and bent knees, and wrapped his arms gently about his lover’s chest. Crowley sighed and brought one hand to rest on Aziraphale’s forearm, feeling warm, safe, and content.

After some time Aziraphale whispered in his ear, “Well, dear?”

“Hmm?”

The cheeky smile was evident in his voice. “Should we put this in the rotation?”

Crowley laughed. “Oh, yes, we should.”


End file.
